Breathe
by Sara Holmes
Summary: HP/DM. Maybe their relationship is as crazy as it seems. WARNINGS for adult language and references to fighting.


**Disclaimer**: The recognisable characters and places from this piece belong to JK Rowling and the publishers. I'm not making any profit, I'm just borrowing them. I'll put them back where I found them, promise.

**Warning:** Slash, implied infidelity, some fighting.

**Authors note:** This is a tentative foray back into a world that State of Mind opened up, and I thought I'd share my dabble into emo waters with you all. Dedicated to anyone and everyone who understood Draco in State of Mind. You guys know who we are.

* * *

**Breathe**

_When we collide we come together_

_If we don't we'll always be apart_

_I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it_

_When you hit me, hit me hard._

* * *

He knew people were staring, but he didn't care. People always stared whenever he ended up sat here: sat outside a café in Diagon Alley, a cold cup of coffee in front of him, ignored in favour of chain smoking and staring out over the cobbles.

People would be staring for more than the usual polite curiosity today; today they would stare with raised eyebrows at the black bruise that framed one of his grey eyes, wondering what scrape Draco Malfoy had managed to get himself into this time.

He could have healed it himself in a trice, but he didn't want to. Firstly because its presence meant that people would look at him for longer and he could stare back defiantly when the urge took him, just daring them to come over and ask what had happened, daring them to speak to him. Secondly, he knew that when he saw Harry again he would be so ashamed of himself that he would probably break down in angry tears, and then Draco could wipe them away, kidding himself that he was saving Harry from something he hadn't caused.

It was fucked up logic and he knew it, and the brief respite in Harry's arms would be quickly superseded by hot guilt because he knew that he'd caused the tears and the pain, that he was the person that had upset Harry once again.

He never meant for these things to happen; they just did. And when they did, it was like it was the only thing in the world. Fighting with Harry was like a drug and Draco was addicted. He knew he was the only one to get those sort of reactions from him and revelled in every shout, curse, and punch that Harry threw at him when Draco became just too unbearable to deal with.

Draco was under no illusion; he knew damn well he could be unbearable sometimes, and the black eye he had was living proof. It hurt still, feeling tender and swollen, but he relished in the slight pain, oddly proud of the mark, even if no-one who saw it would know who caused it.

He was sick of waiting. Harry had said he loved him a thousand times, and had promised he would break things off with Ginny as soon as the time was right but every time Draco saw him he knew he would soon be leaving again to go back to his normal perfect boring unfulfilling life with the Weasley, instead of staying where he belonged with Draco.

Draco reached out and pulled another cigarette from the pack, lighting it with the Muggle lighter he'd found down the back of a sofa in a bar somewhere, wishing that he could think about anything other than Harry. He had tried being patient with him, had tried pleading, demanding, crying and promising by turns, but nothing seemed to work. So when nothing else would work they would fight, because to Draco that was the only way they could connect on the level he needed. Every encounter they had was intense, as if they were trying to make up for the time they spent apart, to cram a life into the few paltry meetings they managed a week.

"What?" Draco snapped at a woman who had paused just in front of him, looking at his face with pity in her expression. She shook her head hastily and walked on, and Draco felt a stab of vindictive pleasure as she left. He didn't want anyone to help him if Harry wasn't going to.

He contemplated getting up and going for a walk but he had no idea where he would go. He knew he would get to his feet, walk for a couple of minutes and then forget why he was so angry and then he would apologise to Harry and then it would be over, and peace would settle until the next time Harry let him down and Draco blew his lid.

This time it was over. It had to be. He wouldn't apologise, he would leave and not look back and spend the rest of his days forgetting about Harry and the miserable non-relationship they had.

Draco tried to ignore the fact this was the same resolution he made every time this happened, and even though he tried not to let his thoughts go down the same path, they did.

A lump formed in his throat and the cigarette in his fingers shook as he pictured Harry's stricken face when he realised Draco had disappeared for good. Those were images that Draco could never shake, the awful look of despair that covered Harry's face when Draco threatened to jump off of the roof, or walk out in front of a train. At the time Draco meant every one of his venomous words, and he lived in constant fear that one day Harry would become bored of and impervious to his threats and then he would be backed into a corner and he'd have no choice but to follow through.

His thoughts were broken by someone pulling out the chair opposite him and he looked up with a jolt to see Harry sliding into the chair, looking exhausted, taking one of Draco's cigarettes out of the packet on the table and lighting it.

"You don't smoke," Draco said shortly.

"I'm sorry." Harry spoke quietly without looking at him, raising the cigarette to his lips.

"Fuck off," Draco replied.

"Don't do that," Harry said quietly, his tone laced with a plea. "You don't want me to, don't push."

Draco didn't trust himself to speak as shame rolled over him. Harry knew him inside out, even if he didn't understand the way Draco behaved sometimes.

"I mean it," Harry said, and threw a guilty glance at Draco's black eye. "I didn't think…I didn't mean to hit you that hard. You just bruise so easily…"

Draco shot him a malevolent look and Harry abruptly stopped talking, a flush rising in his neck. Harry knew better than to ask Draco to heal the bruise, as Draco always refused. He was secretly fascinated by the marks Harry often left on him, whether from a session of fantastic sex or a ferocious fight; they were physical reminders of Harry's passion, the type of passion Draco knew only he could awaken and fuel.

"Tomorrow," Harry said suddenly and Draco snapped his eyes away from his cigarette to look up at him. Harry took a long drag on his own cigarette and breathed out slowly. "Tomorrow," he repeated.

"Dare I ask?" Draco asked quietly, hardly daring to hope.

"You know what. I want you to be there when I tell her," Harry said.

"That's a stupid idea," Draco shook his head. "You know I'll be there the minute it's over though; I've always said that, but this isn't my fight. I'm not doing it for you."

He reached over and yanked the cigarette out of Harry's hand, throwing it to the floor. Harry stared down at the cigarette that was still lit, resting on the cobbles , curls of smoke rising from the tip, and then looked back up, giving Draco a weak smile.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "What?" he asked, almost defiantly.

"I give you a black eye and you still care enough about me to stop me smoking a cigarette," Harry said quietly, as if that explained everything.

Draco could never cease to be amazed by Harry. How he saw the good in every situation, how he could unfailingly see Draco's good qualities and appreciate the stupid little things Draco did for him even when Draco was at his very worst.

"I don't mean to," Draco said suddenly.

"I know. You just do," Harry said with the hint of a tired and rueful smile. Silence fell between them and Draco felt the familiar twinges of annoyance and bitter regret that he couldn't reach out and take Harry's hand to comfort him.

"We're fucked up," Harry said, almost too softly to be heard.

"_I'm_ fucked up," Draco corrected.

"It's not just you…" Harry trailed off. Draco stared at him and for a moment wondered if he had the energy to cry.

"You know I love you. It's always been you," Harry said suddenly and Draco had to look away.

"It's just words though, isn't it," he said bitterly. "You know words can only do so much."

Their eyes met again, both full of uncertainty and doubt and fear, and Draco knew that Harry was terrified - terrified to let go of the life he had incase it didn't work out. It wasn't just that, though; Draco knew that Harry was also scared of him. Scared that Draco wouldn't change, scared that he would always be as unmanageable and demanding even if Harry gave up everything for him, and Harry was looking away-

Draco took a deep breath. "Harry?"

Harry looked up back at Draco, his eyes shining, looking so uncertain and pale.

"I love you."

Harry's eyes widened and Draco heard him breathe in sharply, and Draco suddenly wished he would really go away because this was too much. He hadn't wanted Harry to hear those words because that was the last shred of anything that belonged solely to him. Now Harry knew, Draco had nothing left to tell him, nothing left to use when things got really bad.

"Tomorrow," Harry breathed in response and Draco nodded, looking away and lighting another cigarette. He didn't know if Harry was telling the truth, so often had he let him down by changing his mind about leaving Ginny.

But now Harry had the words, the words that Draco had never before told him, the words that Draco had never dared say, and maybe that would be what he needed. Maybe that still wouldn't be enough and Draco would have lost and be left well and truly out of ammunition.

"Tomorrow," Draco said under his breath as Harry got up and left. He watched him go, the same overwhelming and confusing mix of hate, want, need, bitterness and love ebbing through him, rushing slowly back and forth like the tide. Harry disappeared amongst the crowd and Draco looked despondently at his freezing cold coffee and took a deep drag on his cigarette. He had waited two years. One more day couldn't hurt.

* * *

_Maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems._

_Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano_

_All I know is I love you too much to walk away._


End file.
